DESK TOPS TELL ALL

By Daniel Goleman; Daniel Goleman writes about the behavioral sciences for The Times.

Published: September 13, 1987

Among the treasured memorabilia on the desk of the industrialist Armand Hammer are a 50-million-year-old piece of fossil shale and a check, set in clear Lucite, for one billion dollars - a souvenir of the repayment of a debt. The real-estate magnate Donald J. Trump's desk is cluttered with important papers, but on a window ledge behind him, he keeps a small replica of Trump Tower and a pair of antique ice skates presented to him upon the reopening of Wollman Skating Rink in New York City. The bank chairman Lewis T. Preston has a comparatively bare desk that is a memento itself: an early 20th-century roll-top used by one of the original partners of J. P. Morgan & Company.

What does the desk reveal about the man? For detectives of the psyche, it has become a kind of Rorschach test. Psychologists have assayed the significance of, say, an oak antique versus a drawerless, post-modern neoprene table, or of photographs of family fishing trips versus neat displays of professional honors. Much as literary scholars deconstruct a text, they look for desk-top insights into a man's character.

''In deciding what to put on your desk, there are, on the one hand, objects that communicate status by letting everyone know you have social savvy, taste and sophistication,'' says Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a psychologist at the University of Chicago. ''And then, on the other, there are the things with special meaning for you that create the sense of a cozy environment, that give you moral support.''

As symbols of status, desks offer clues to the degree to which a person is addicted to that aphrodisiac of the working world: power. Research shows that those who are propelled through life by a high need for power - as opposed, say, to one for achievement or intimacy - surround themselves with objects of prestige.

What might exude the appropriate aura, however, varies, depending on one's circle. ''If having a fancy computer is part of the cachet of the office culture, then those high in the need for power will be sure to get one,'' says David Winter, a professor of psychology at Wesleyan University. ''In other office cultures, not having a computer on your desk might be more prestigious, because it means someone else does such work for you.''

There is also nuance in just what conveys prestige and what is seen as vulgar display. ''A Harvard professor would not put a Harvard memento on his desk, unless he was in Nebraska, maybe, and a Rhodes scholar would consider it tasteless to advertise his Oxford connection,'' says Dr. Winter, who has been both a Harvard and Rhodes scholar himself.

Other signs of the ardor for power are oddities, such as weird cultural artifacts, or a picture of the family posed not around the barbecue, but at Machu Picchu - an announcement that one has been in such esoteric environs.

The desk itself is another way for power-seekers to make an impact. ''They will have an $1,800 oak roll-top desk, or a sleek non-desk - a table,'' says Dr. Winter. ''Anything that compels attention and lifts their identity out of the ordinary.''

One can also observe a marked contrast between the desks of those who are determined always to create the right impression for the moment, and those who adhere to their values no matter what the situation.

The former ''choose items on the basis of the messages they convey,'' says Mark Snyder, a psychologist at the University of Minnesota. They ''find just the right objects - the diploma, the trophy, the fancy pen set - to bolster the image.''

Other members of the same professions, however, will decorate their offices with ''things they happen to like -family photos, personal mementos,'' says Dr. Snyder. Unconcerned with impressions, they are happy to display the crayon scribblings of their toddler, or the attempt at a wooden penholder made by a 12-year-old.

Howard Kalmer, a health-care consultant with the Peabody Group in San Francisco, for instance, displays a Dundee-brand marmalade jar crammed with favorite pens and pencils, and a geode he found in the Arizona desert on a family trip in 1956.

''I need things that give me a feeling of continuity and stability, because I've had a lot of change in my life,'' says Kalmer. ''I'm on my seventh desk now; I keep re-creating the same one every time I move.''

And for Will Hopkins, a graphic designer in New York City, the personal statement is made by his ''desk'' itself - a slanting drafting table given him by the art director who hired him for his first job.

But what of the man whose work space is virtually empty?

''Some people think it will be seen by their boss or customers as a measure of a well organized executive,'' says Dr. Csikszentmihalyi. But, he adds, a bare desk may also reveal a need to feel in control.

And, like a neat one, a messy desk can be a message, saying, 'I'm a creative, capable guy, quite able to navigate in the midst of this chaos,' '' notes Dr. Csikszentmihalyi.

Still others find coziness in building a sort of nest by piling papers, books, letters - almost anything - on their desks. ''That kind of messiness is supportive, like a child's security blanket,'' says Dr. Csikszentmihalyi, who favors it himself. ''Somehow I'd rather be surrounded by what needs my attention than to have it all filed away antiseptically.''

Does the assumption that a neat desk signifies efficiency and competence bear scrutiny? Not according to Thomas Malone, a cognitive psychologist who studied desks while working at the Xerox Palo Alto Research Center. The two main purposes of the junk piled on people's desks, says Dr. Malone, are ''finding and reminding.''

For some people, the mass of memos, letters and papers operates as a list of what they have to do - reminders. Then there are those possibly interesting papers, none of them particularly compelling now, but which you may need some day, so you put them in a pile for future ''finding.''

In his study, Dr. Malone found that people who kept their desks tidy were, understandably, quicker at tracking down items than were those forced to search through clutter. And those with messy desks complained more about losing track of what they needed. But he also found that those with impeccable desks may spend more time filing and arranging. And, says Dr. Malone, whose own desk tends toward the messy, ''I'm not sure it's worth the time and effort.''